


My Sovereign

by marybarrymore



Category: 15th Century CE RPF
Genre: Gen, Sibling Rivalry, coup indicated, second-born second-best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marybarrymore/pseuds/marybarrymore
Summary: Thomas of Lancaster, the soon-to-be Duke of Clarence, found himself in a most distressing situation.
Relationships: Henry IV of England & Thomas of Lancaster 1st Duke of Clarence, Henry V of England & Thomas of Lancaster 1st Duke of Clarence
Kudos: 2





	My Sovereign

"It would have been better had Thomas been the firstborn."

Thomas remembered his father had once said that to his mother. They were sitting in the garden at Kenilworth. Harry and the two little ones were wrestling in the distance, and Thomas was sitting at his father's feet, teasing his mother's spaniel.

"How better?" Mother had asked.

How better? Thomas had never seen much advantage in being the eldest, especially since Harry was always the one who got the worst of the blame every time they committed some mischiefs. Not that it wasn't unfair, after all, Harry was always the one who led them into trouble when it came down to it. Besides, Father Repyngton had made them read the Scripture, where the Lord had sent the plague upon Egypt to kill all the firstborns. When he heard that he had been glad that he wasn't one, and sneaking a glance at Harry, relieved at the thought that even if they had accidentally angered God, he wouldn't be the one whom the Almighty would choose to punish first. Now his father was saying that it would be nice if he was the firstborn, and with a tone full of regret, that he looked up in bewilderment, wanting to hear what his father had to say about the whole business.

"Thomas is more like me." Father said this then, stroking his curls, "And as for Harry..."

Mother frowned softly, "Harry is like your mother," she said gently, "Father told me so."

"Oh, did Father tell you so?" Thomas heard his father speak over him, his tone unperturbed. The wrestling on the other side of the garden was over and the two boys were riding over their eldest brother, chattering things he could not hear, squealing with excitement. "If father says so, then so be it."

"...I'll first make you the Duke of Clarence. Thomas, are you listening?"

Thomas, finding himself distracted, hastily pulled his thoughts away from the sunny garden of Kenilworth and his stout, handsome father to look at this haggard, wretched man sitting in front of him, in the dark and gloomy Palace of Westminster.

"I am, my lord." He replied obediently, without actually hearing a word. But it didn't matter, he just had to be obedient. The more obedience he showed, the more his father would remember how untamed his eldest son had been when facing him, and the more he would loathe Harry. It would be to his advantage, Thomas knew.

What could he do? He was not the firstborn, and he had to rely on his father's favour for his own benefit.

"Duke of Clarence..." his father fell silent, picking up a Cypriot raisin from a silver platter on the table, "so that you can justifiably command that group of noble. Your brother is coming to the palace tonight to see me, and I suppose he wants me to give _him_ command of this army still. Well, he may think! You will go and join the Dukes of Berry and Orleans, and there is no need to pursue the war with much vigour, just do your duty and take a few more fortresses so that I can hold the council accountable. When you return ... I'll name you the Duke of Aquitaine."

Thomas looked up abruptly. The rooms of Westminster Palace were not lit by high windows like the Great Hall of Kenilworth, and even though they were lit during the day, the room were still dimly set. His father sat with his back to the window, against the light, and Thomas could not see the look on his face, only his eyes glowing in the dim room.

"Father," he felt his mouth go horribly dry and moistened his lips with a glass of wine from the table to hide his discomfort, "Harry is the Duke of Aquitaine."

"I've been thinking about this lately," his father spoke as if he hadn't heard him, "Our dispute with France always boils down to whether or not the King of England should swear allegiance to the King of France for the Duchy of Aquitaine. Now that I'm on the throne, I can barely keep the peace with France, but I've seen this year that your brother's only intention is for war. He is stubborn, and I can't dissuade him. When I'm dead, he will certainly use this excuse to start the war afresh. Thomas, do you know that King Richard once made my father your grandfather the Duke of Aquitaine?"

"That is because grandfather has labored long and hard to broker peace for England and France. But father-"

"The people of England cannot allow their King to swear allegiance to the King of France for the Duchy of Aquitaine, but the Duke of Lancaster can, and naturally the Duke of Clarence may as well. I shall bestow the Duchy of Aquitaine on you and your heirs, and it is only logical that you should swear allegiance to the King of France for Aquitaine, and the people of England will not be too displeased. Besides, I'm worried about you, Thomas," his father looked down at him condescendingly, wrapping his heavy cloak still more tightly around himself even in this latter spring, "you and your brother have never been on good terms. I have little time left to live. You are my favourite son, and I fear that should he ascend the throne, his jealousy will direct himself against you. By granting Aquitaine to you, I thereby can separate you two, and thus protect you against him when I’m gone."

Thomas looked at his father and thought about it, but didn't really ask from where did his father get the idea that Harry was jealous of him. If he really had to say who was jealous of whom, it should be _him_ who was jealous of Harry and not the other way round. After all, Harry not only had all the benefits of a firstborn son, but had also joined Beaufort in obstructing his marriage, causing him to lose more than half of Margaret's dowry. The two of them would have absolutely descended to a good fight on the spot when Harry called him an oath-breaker had it not been John mediating between them.

"Harry would be furious," Thomas said curtly, "He's been the Duke of Aquitaine for more than a decade."

Furious would be an exaggeration. Thomas hadn't seen his brother losing his temper much. Honestly, sometimes he even thought Harry so cold-blooded that even his anger was precisely calculated to intimidate rather than to show his real feelings. After all, he had witnessed Harry lashing out at Arundel's feoffees for breaking the law, when he felt chills run down his body as he watched, and the young Earl with a remorseful countenance swore to God that he would definitely keep his feoffees answerable and beg Harry to punish him as he thought fit. But Thomas, standing nearby, could clearly see the tiny curl of Harry's upper lip after inducing a fine on Arundel, looking almost as if he were actually pleased with gaining five hundred marks in one stroke.

But it was one thing to watch from a distance, quite another to experience Harry's anger at first-hand. Besides, he didn't think he'd be able to hold much longer under Harry’s wrath than Arundel. He'd been unaware of this a long time ago, daring to mess with Harry when he was in a bad mood. Harry had only turned his head to cast a glance at him to make him immediately shattered away to tend to his wounded soul. He tried to imagine the look on Harry's face when he heard that the king had given him a lieutenant out of thin air without even asking him, the Duke of Aquitaine, and was planning to deprive him of his dukedom, and shuddered.

Besides, no matter what his father said now, Harry was the Prince of Wales and the future King of England. He wasn't a fool, and it was just as well that he earned himself a good marriage by relying on his father's favour. But to use this favoritism to deprive his elder brother, whom he had known to possess an obsessive interest in guarding his ‘rights and privileges’, of his inherited rights and privileges was, to his reckon, rather a decent way to commit suicide.

"Harry wants to make war on France, then let him. Harry is a genius, and the French are a scattered mass, so it won't be hard to win."

His father snorted, "Just let him? That's easy for you to say. Thomas, have you any idea the balance of the king's household last year? The Royal Household has never been able to make ends meet, and last year alone, we were in debt to the sum of £40,000, and this was in peacetime, with Wales pacified, and in peace-term with the Scots and the French! You say he's a genius, so what? Can he raise the money needed for a campaign? Anyone dare to lend him money? The Commons …"

He stopped sharply, his lips moving as if to swallow something unpleasant. Thomas thought he knew what the king recalled to mind. Parliament had always been snorting Henry IV's demands, but with Prince of Wales they were far more lenient. If the king wanted to raise taxes, he would have to be scolded by the House of Commons and, with a forced smile on his face make outrageous concessions to get a half of what he desired. However, if the prince wanted to raise taxes, all he had to do was to promise to reform the court, and the parliament would grant him the money. Of course, the prince did reform the court according to his promise, laying off the queen's Breton maids-of-honor to such an extent that Queen Joan complaint to the king several times to no avail.

"At any rate the matter is settled," said the king, suddenly irritable, "and I will not let him wage war on France! England cannot afford a long and irksome war, and thanks to your great-grandfather's foolhardiness, no Italian bank will dare to give us a large loan. No, supporting Orleans is the best we can get out of this wreck of France, far more than we could obtain through an expensive and useless chevauchee as your great-grandfather wont to. In the next Parliament I will appoint you lieutenant of Aquitaine and the Duke of Clarence. The Dukes of Berry and Orleans you have known as a child. When you return, I'll make you the Duke of Aquitaine."

Thomas lifted his face, with a bundle of questions in his head. But the words died in his mouth. His father had been sick since that sudden seizure a few years ago, and now that he was a near invalid, it was hard enough for him to have talked so much. He must be the greatest fool in Christendom if he couldn't read the countenance set in his father's ailing face in the dim candlelight. Besides, instead of harassing his father by mentioning Harry’s name in front of him, it would be easier for him to ask the one who was actually in charge.

"Yes, Father."

Do you know why your father favours you more than Harry? The man opposite him asked, the shadow of his face swimming in the smoke of the incense.

Because I resemble him.

No, said the man, because you can only cling to him. You see, the king is too ill to manage his affairs, and the prince was unfilial enough to try to force him to abdicate, even sending the Beaufort to ask for the French’s support on this matter. You, on the other hand, have no title, no land, and no steady income, so you have to look up to the king in everything. So, it is only too natural that he should support you and suppress the prince.

But Monsieur, said the man, do you really wish to be a pawn against your brother, to be revenged by him when he becomes king? Is the crown of England not dazzling enough? Don't you want to go further, through your father's favour, and take your brother's place?

Take your brother's place...?

He must be crazy if he thought he could replace Harry. Harry was born to be king, even King Richard felt that way. Thomas had been in Ireland for less than three months before hastily boarding a ship and fled back to London to save his life, but Harry had thundered out the Welsh rebels, and even the grumping Parliament who cared nothing more than their purses and bellies praised him with a bit of awe. But he did not answer so. Let me think, he said, let me think. Then he got out of the confessionary and fled, the questions thundering in his head.

How on earth did he come to that?

"My father says he will make me the Duke of Clarence and lieutenant of Aquitaine at the next parliament."

"He told me so," Archbishop Arundel nodded, "the king's mind is set, but you still seem to have doubts?"

Thomas took one look at the falcon-like silhouette in front of him and gulped.

"Harry wouldn't allow that to happen..." he explained with some difficulty, "You see, he's the Duke of Aquitaine. He's the one who has the power to appoint lieutenants. My father's open contempt for his authority is tantamount to a slap in his face. He cannot endure this humiliation and allow me this post."

"Simple," The Archbishop muttered, not looking at him, but pouting his lips lightly and blew out a candle, "Then we'll make sure he can't attend the next parliament, won't we?"

He had never quite understood why Harry and the Archbishop seemed to have been at loggerheads with each other since their first meeting. He could understand the nobles’ contempt for the Archbishop forsaking the court party and siding with the King. But why Harry was so keen to antagonize him was beyond his understanding.

"Because Archbishop Arundel once swore by the holy relics that father did not return for Richard's throne," John explained to him so, rolling his eyes, "Come on, Thomas, why should you ask me, when you're the one who was present at Flint to witness the whole affair from beginning to the end? "

Thomas thought for a moment before he realized what was amiss.

"But Archbishop Arundel did it on father's orders. If Harry is going to blame anyone for Richard’s downfall, he has all the more reason to hate-"

John looked at him as if looking at a fool, with the kind of look they usually reserved to tease the Earl of Warwick.

"Do you...really want to do this?"

The Archbishop glanced at him, "And you seem reluctant. Why, Monsieur Thomas, do you still have no answer to the question I asked you last time? Or do you have to think and think and think all the way until Harry of Monmouth ascend to the throne?"

"If Father knew you were doing this behind his back-"

"How could the king know," the archbishop's voice was smooth, "and even if he did, he should be grateful to me. He wants peace with France. He wants to suppress heresy. He wants to get rid of his annoying eldest son. He should be more grateful that I've solved three troubles for him at once."

Thomas didn't know what to say. He had a vague recollection of a night long, long ago when he had huddled on his knees on the stairs leading up to the main hall in the tower of Leicester Castle, his sore eyes staring at the direction of the front door. It was just after his mother's funeral, his father and grandfather were in London for the Queen's funeral, and his grandmother was nowhere to be found, leaving the family of four boys and two even smaller girls and their tiny household in the gloomy old castle of the Good Duke Henry. Harry was ill again, and he was exhausted from worrying about him and father, and from racking his brains calming the smaller children, until he heard Mary Hervey whisper to the Derby Herald when she thought no one would hear, "Or else...we'd better call my lord of Derby back."

He perked up then and there. He didn't understand why everyone had previously shaken their heads and lowered their voices to say something about the state of affairs, the uncertainty of the situation, and how they couldn't disturb my lord of Derby. But Mary Hervey was mother's lady-in-waiting and Philippa and Blanche's governess, and her words carried weight. Besides, he had watched the Derby Herald step out of the castle onto the road to London, and naturally understood that his father would soon be back. He was still young, and only knew that father was the greatest man in the world, and that there was nothing that he couldn't fix. Once father returned, all would be well, and the cloud of death shadowing over Leicester would be dispelled. He harbored this belief, and tried to insert some of them into his younger siblings.

It had rained heavily that night, with lightning and thunder, and the air in the nursery was suffocating. Philippa played mindlessly with her wooden horse, Blanche frowned in the dim candlelight and studied the embroidery of her pillow until the nanny confiscated the culprit and pinned them down on the bed. John thought no one was paying attention to him and nearly cried himself out with a blanket over his head, and was scolded by the nurse who rescued him. Humphrey made his nurse tell three stories before drifted off to sleep. "Where is Harry?" He asked sobbing, glancing at Thomas as if he suspected he had hidden Harry away, "I'm scared. I want Harry."

Thomas was so annoyed by the sound of a room full of crying children that he couldn't sleep and tossed and turned in bed and was still sleepless when the nursery was finally quiet with only the snoring of the watchwoman. He got out of the bed quietly, tiptoed around the snoring woman and out of the door, set himself on the stairs of the main tower leading to the main hall. He was too disturbed to sleep, so he used to sit on the stairs waiting for his father's voice to appear at the door until he became too sleepy to sustain himself when he would crawl back into his bed. He was young, but not stupid, and knew that if he was found asleep on the stairs the next morning, the nursery’s door would sure to be locked for the night.

"...Outrageous..."

His sleepiness was dispelled by the familiar voice and he stood up, ready to rush down the stairs and into his father's arms. Another thunderclap sounded, accompanied by his father's clear words sent into his ears. He stayed where he was, his excitement frozen on his face as he stood on the hidden stairs and watched his father walk into the hall.

"...things are a mess in London...the King's temper unpredictable. Arundel has been rebuked...Gloucester is trying...one step wrong and our family could be undone... call me back just because that boy..."

Mary Hervey followed him and seemed to whisper something. Father turned sharply on her. His grim expression, lit by another lightning, looked so unlike the father he had known.

"So what if he's dead?" He heard his father's growl clearly, "He should have died long ago. Yea, at birth should he be dead! How glad I would have been if it had been him instead of Mary!"

Father was still ranting about something, but he couldn't bear it any more. He plugged his ears and ran upstairs like a madman, wrapping himself in his blanket and shivering, without understanding what he was afraid of.

"Does it have to be this way?" He felt his teeth fighting. Arundel eyed him and blew out a second candle.

"Of course, if you don't want to...we can always find another way." He said smoothly. Thomas suddenly wanted to ask Harry for help, and then he remembered that it wasn't something he could ask Harry for, "To little avail, though. The King doesn't know his eldest son and thinks that separating you two will solve the matter. Monsieur, you know him better than your father, do you think that's possible?"

Thomas lifted his eyes and watched as the Archbishop blew out another candle.

"You've got it all arranged, haven't you?" Overly nervous, his voice miraculously calmed down, "My father told me Harry is coming to the palace tonight. You will do it whether I agree to it or not."

"The Prince lodge at Westminster Palace only a handful of days in a year," there was now only a lone lit candle left on the candlestick, "and even more so after his falling out with the King. Tonight may be the last chance."

Thomas let out a sardonic laugh, "Then why pretend as if to consult my opinion? I remind you, Archbishop, that when you first approached me, I only agreed to work with you to thwart his pride, and never agreed to be your accomplice in murder!"

"The more you have the more you want, Monsieur," the last candle went out and Thomas couldn't see Archbishop Arundel's face, "I know at the time you only wanted to get back at him for interfering with your marriage, but didn't you want military leadership, a title, and land when you get it? Now that it's all at your fingertips, are you willing to let it go? Don't you want to go further? Don't you crave for your father's crown?"

You can't defeat me, Thomas. Harry had pinned him against the stone wall of Windsor Castle gnashing his teeth. You’ve never defeated me, you never shall and you never will. Even if you have that old fool at your backing.

He fumbled to his feet and stumbled like a blind man towards the door and out of Lambeth Palace, feeling a sharp gaze pinned to his back. He wanted to tell Harry, but confessing one thing to Harry would mean confessing everything to Harry, and he knew there were some things that Harry would never forgive. What's more, in the most secret corner of his heart, he knew Arundel was right.

He was not willing.

He wanted to win. He wanted to prove Harry wrong. He wanted to prove to Harry that he had more than father’s favour to count for.

He whimpered, holding his head in his hands, and fell onto the steps of Lambeth Palace.

How did he ever come to this?

**Author's Note:**

> What happened in the House of Lancaster during the years 1410-1413 was one of the most mysterious things in the mysterious reign of Henry IV.
> 
> The coup indicated was the assassination told by Humphrey Duke of Gloucester to the council in 1426. I fixed the date before the Parliament which granted Thomas his ducal title and which the Prince of Wales failed to attend for he left London the day before, but it is more likely that it happened during the Prince's first entering London with 'a huge host' seeking audience with the King, at which time Thomas had already left for France. I've placed the charge of assassination on Archbishop Arundel without actual proof but purly because of my reluctance to lay the charge of fratricide on Thomas' head, and Humphrey's later charge against Cardinal Beaufort seemed rather too absurd for me. What actually happened during the last years of Henry IV's reign no one can speak for sure, from all that I could gather the only things that can be certain was that the Prince of Wales with the Beauforts actively sought the king's abdication and when the king refuted them, greatly feared that he would be disinherited in favour of the Duke of Clarence.


End file.
